Chapter 36 Close-Distance Compatibility Testing
“Question one: What are your three reddest flags? Not the ones you look for in others. The ones that you yourself possess.” I arch a brow, peering at Reed over my phone.
“Wow, you come right for the jugular.”
“You asked for it.”
He grins, tipping his chin in concession. “Well, we have the obvious one—I want to be an actor.”
I put down the phone and fold my hands between us. “Are an actor,” I correct.
“Yes, I’m an actor. There’s a red flag in there somewhere.” He throws up a peace sign with his right hand. “Two, another one we’ve already touched on. I haven’t been on a third date in fourteen years.”
I nod, beaming at the table between us. “Yes, valid, both valid.”
“And three . . .” He presses his lips together, eyes darting to my hands for a moment before popping back up to my face. “Which Friend are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m easing you into number three.”
I pick up my milkshake and swirl it in its cardboard cup, attempting to appear chill at the mention of my favorite show of all time. “I guess Monica.”
He shakes his head, smirking. “You can’t have Monica—she’s me.”
I snort. “Why are you Monica?”
“I’m obnoxious regarding cleanliness. And germs.”
I tilt my head curiously. “Go on.”
He purses his lips, carefully considering his response. “Are you a morning-shower person or an evening-shower person?”
I shrug. “It varies.”
Reed drops his head back, smiling. “Sorry, did I get too political? I’m going to need a more clear answer. Morning or night? Everyone’s one or the other.”
I sip my milkshake, unexpectedly amused by the turn this conversation is taking.
Reed laughs in disbelief. “She doesn’t deign to answer the question?”
I set down the cup. “On the days I work out, I shower in the morning, and on weekends I’ll shower before a date or something. And sometimes I’m craving a shower at night, so I shower at night.”
“This is insanity! What kind of person doesn’t know if they’re a morning showerer or an evening showerer?”
I smirk at him. “Apparently me. What are you?”
He pops a fry in his mouth, and I laugh.
Slowly, Reed sits back and crosses his arms, mouth rendered down into the slightest smile. “I’m an evening showerer, Rikki.”
I sit back and cross my own arms. “Oh, I’m excited to hear where this is going.”
“I need to shower before getting into bed, and I really want anyone else that’s coming into the bed to shower as well.”
I arch a brow. “And what if your partner only showered in the morning?”
He runs a hand down his face, smiling bashfully. “Here comes the flag: When I was in my twenties, during the emo era, before I really started sticking to my two-date rule, I ended things with someone I was kinda seeing because she refused to shower before we got into my bed.”
Laughter buzzes through my teeth.
“When I think about it now, I don’t know if I actually cared that much, or if I was just too scared for things to get serious.”
“And if I only showered in the morning?”
His eyes twinkle. “Well, now, a decade of therapy later—if you told me you didn’t want to shower at night, I would tell you it makes me happy when my partner showers before we go to sleep because I’m a control freak, and things being a certain way makes me weirdly happy, but I’m a control freak who’s done a lot of work on himself, and I would get over it. ”
A rush of affection storms my chest.
“I’ve never told someone that voluntarily.” He looks away at the door and then back at me. Exhales another nervous breath, picks up the last bit of his burger, and tosses it down the hatch. “How are you feeling? You want to walk out the door, Uber back to Jersey?”
My smile cracks open. “No . . . I loved that.”
“You loved that?” he says dryly.
I lift a casual shoulder and let it drop. “I love showering, and I’m happy to do it anywhere anytime. And the fact that me showering can make you happy makes me happy because I’d be happy to make you happy.”
He goes silent for a beat, staring at me, lips quirked. “Wow, I’m so turned on right now.”
I huff out a breathy laugh as a blush creeps up my neck.
Reed organizes his trash on our food tray, pushes it to the side, and leans forward across the table on his beautiful forearms. “Your turn, Renee.”
I sigh. “Yours were so light and fun, and mine are so . . . dark and immovable.”
Reed just grins. “Hit me.”
I concentrate on the feel of the table under my fingers, trying to calm my nervous system.
“Um, well, there’s the fact that I’m an LMFT, so you know, on top of the control freak thing, I’m a relationship know-it-all.”
“I love that about you. Your reads are so intuitive, and your takes on life are so thought-provoking and reflective.”
My brows pinch together as I fight a wave of hot pressure behind my eyes.
His smile grows. “I see you working up some way to deflect that statement. Just take it, Rikki. It’s true.”
I exhale slowly. “Thanks.”
He bobs his chin, encouraging me to go on.
“Um, two, I, well, I’m not sure if I ever want to have kids.”
“How is that a red flag?”
My voice gets unsteady. “I—I mean technically it’s not, just like technically your actor thing isn’t.
But I’ve definitely lost a relationship because of it.
Or at least they stated it as a reason they couldn’t be with me.
We talked about it during our first month of dating and then, when we were breaking up, he said he thought I was just in a mood when I said that, and that I’d get over it and change my mind. ” It was, of course, Ted.
“Asshole.”
I nod. “Valid.”
Reed presses his lips together, sympathy pooling in his eyes. “I have the same stance on kids.”
I level my gaze. “Are you sure? Because I’m not just in a mood today.”
He snorts.
“Why don’t you want kids?” I ask carefully.
“It’s never been something that I’ve yearned for. I wouldn’t be against it, but it’s not on my Christmas list.” He pauses, studying me. “What about you?”
“I mean, lots of little reasons but . . .” I swallow. “I kind of weirdly feel like I’ve had them.”
“In what way?”
My heart speeds up. “Well, I’ve been hypervigilant most of my life, worrying about my mom every day when I left for school.
When I was sleeping. When she’d forget to pick me up from things.
” I heave a breath. “I was almost constantly wondering like, did she just forget again today, or is she hurt? Does she need me?”
“Why would she need you?”
I sigh. “My dad was sometimes violent with her. And I would try to like, fix their relationship. I’d lecture him about how to be nice.
And how hitting people is not nice. And he’d promise to never do it again.
And I thought I had fixed it. I’d believe him, because I was a kid, and I trusted everything he said. ”
Reed’s forehead furrows.
“Yeah, um, and then when she left my dad, I worried about Whitney. She was eleven when we moved into my aunt’s. I was thirteen. My mom was dealing with a lot, and my aunt was always working.
“So I was the one who made her food when she got home from school.
Did her hair. I helped her with her homework.
Quizzed her before tests. Babysat. I helped her pick out her first bra.
Drove her places once I got my license. Sat by the toilet with her the first time she got drunk.
I went with her to her first gynecologist appointment to get birth control when she was a freshman . . . I cowrote her college essay.
“I’m not like a hundred on it, but I don’t know if I’ll ever reach a place where I’m ready to go back to that precarious-eggshells mindset I was in for the first significant chunk of my life.”
Reed’s quiet for a beat, watching me. I can’t hold his gaze for more than half a second at a time as I wait for him to respond.
“You’re so impressive.”
I exhale a gust of breath and roll my eyes.
“Rikki.” He latches on to my gaze, serious war-hero face in place. “I’m serious. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”
“It’s fine.”
He rotates his drink. “It’s all coming together now, Renee.”
I snort. “What’s coming together?”
The edge of his mouth quirks. “Well, obviously the daddy issues are becoming more clear. And you became an LMFT because you wanted to figure out how to heal the issues you dealt with in your childhood?”
I cast my eyes to the ceiling. “You have me all figured out now?”
He grins. “You had me figured out ninety minutes in. What’s number three?”
I clear my throat. “Probably that I . . . currently live in my dad’s apartment.”
Reed’s eyes widen.
I shake my head quickly. “He doesn’t live there .
. . I was rooming with my best friend and her husband.
Jordyn and Micah—you met them. They got pregnant, and I had to get my own place.
I wasn’t being paid enough to get my own New York City–area place.
Even though the podcast is doing amazing—I don’t get to renegotiate my salary till next week. ”
I suck in a deep breath. “My father works in real estate, and he ‘acquired’ a one-bedroom apartment that he’s flipping right down the hall from Micah and Jordyn. He told me I could live there for six months free of rent while he flips it. It was hard to say no.”
He studies me for a beat. “But you wish you did?”
I nod. “Kinda. He has a Ring camera on the doorbell, and he sees me when I come and go. Texts me to ask where I’m going and what I’m doing.
He shows up randomly without pretense, stays over.
It’s unsettling. I’m currently a thirty-year-old woman living under her father’s rule.
Which is most definitely a red flag.” I run my hands down my face as anxiety nips at my gut.
My hands are . . . shaking. I drop them into my lap before meeting Reed’s eyes again.
They’re sharp, attentive, brimming with concern.
“I know . . . it’s weird that I even speak to him. ”
Reed shakes his head. “Family is complicated.”
“He insists that he’s different. He’s repented. He’s reformed. He’s in therapy. He’s on medication.” I shrug. “I always want to believe him. I want him to be better. I want him to be the guy I used to think he was when I was a kid.
“Which, I know, I’m a therapist, it’s impossible. He never was that guy, and he never will be. My father’s a professional liar.” I prop my arm on the table and rest my head in my hand. “But here I am. Living in his apartment. Giving him his millionth chance to prove me wrong.”
“Rikki. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I shake out my arms. “Jeez. That was a lot. How are you feeling? Is this too much? You want to stop? Should I get an Uber?”
Reed studies me for a long moment, understanding swirling behind his eyes. “What else you got?”